


Catch & Release

by CaptainCorgi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mermaid, Humor, Hurt & Comfort, Jesse Would Probably Be Best with Actual Pets, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Mutual Pining, One-Shot, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCorgi/pseuds/CaptainCorgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse came to a full stop. This wasn't a whale or some unfortunate dolphin. The top half of the creature exposed itself as a man.</p><p>“Shit.” </p><p>Jesse felt his hand go to the revolver at his side, brushing the handle and approached the seemingly unconscious creature. Mers were not something he had experience with. They were a menace to sailors. Jesse had never seen one - much less one washed up on a lonely stretch of beach looking like it had been run through a shredder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch & Release

**Author's Note:**

> (THIS WOULD LITERALLY NOT BE HERE WITHOUT THIS PERSON) a thanks to [bamfbugboy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfbugboy/pseuds/bamfbugboy) for being beta and spring board for this piece. Without them this probably would not have turned into the piece it is now. Always letting me toss ideas around and generally putting up with me being unsure about SO SO SO many aspects of this. I can not show enough appreciation.

 

_ The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea. _

 

On the surface a storm was brewing. Beneath the waves there was a creeping malevolence. Flashes of royal, white, and sanguine through the water. Sunlight peeked through thickening clouds and caught the scales. That was how they tracked him. Against a palate of deep blue, the brilliance of his tail gave him away. He wanted to be chased. Anything to interfere with their foolish poaching.

A spear shot through the water, grazing his tail causing him to turn. With a grimace he glared up through the current at the ship’s intimidating steel hull. The facade of a skull smeared across the bow - grinning and clutching a harpoon between its nasty teeth. They'd been through these waters for months. He had been a thorn in their side just as long - cutting nets, chasing away the sea life, any manner of interference conceivable. Another spear sliced through the water, rope going taunt, catching his delicate fin and tearing the membrane. No blood yet. That shot had been too close. The spear reeled back to the surface, preparing to aim again. He couldn't stay still. An easy target.

With a flick of delicate, weaving fins, he flipped over and wove through the ocean. A straight line was a death sentence so his movements remained sporadic, unpredictable, difficult to track. Another mile or so and they would give up. Time wasted chasing down the nuisance that drove away the poachers’ prey. If time ran late enough they would leave. Maybe this time they would finally not return. The storm was a growing threat. Darkness even more so. The combination was deadly this close to the cliffs. He knew the caverns that wove through the stone. Disappearing was a simple feat but he needed to keep their attention.

The sharp boom of the spear gun cracked against the ocean's surface. He diverted his path, looking over his shoulder and tumbled into the net. The weighted ends tugging on his muscles. Struggling against the thick carbon strands only tightened the bindings. He felt the net enclose around his tail as sharp barb dug into the base. Scales scratched off, drifting through the water with specks of fresh blood. Teeth gritted against the sharp pain. The net collapsed on itself - barbs meant to keep him from turning in the net and slipping free.

_ Clever bastards _ . 

Thrashing would do nothing. Even beneath waves he caught the sound of poorly oiled gears creaking as the net was dragged. While he possesses claws they were made useless. The spines along his back and sides were equally worthless. They were sharp to the touch and possessed a nasty neurotoxin but nets had no flesh to pierce. The carbon fiber constructing of the net was meant to wrangle his kind.

_ Fools finally wised up. _

Thunder cracked as the line breached the surface. In seconds the rest of his body followed. Lungs accustomed to the swell of the tide collapsed, rapidly adjusting to the heavy air. His webbed hands grabbed at the net, searching for a purchase while dots speckled his vision. Surfacing breathing was something he rarely did - a practice that took often hours to grow accustom to. Drops of blood crawled down his tail, hanging slightly upside down with the barbs holding his tail, digging deeper now that they carried his full weight. Pointed teeth ground together, eyes shutting out the agony the slightest movement dug into the tender flesh. His claws dug into his palms. The delicate membrane of his fins hung limp against his body. The spines rustled his agitation.

The rusted end of a hook suddenly pierced the mesh, pulling the net over the deck of the ship. Humans were rank terrible creatures. He hissed a warning, glaring despite the pain, his spines creating a soft unnerving noise as they vibrated against each other. Calloused hands covered in thick gloves jostled the net. His hands grabbed at the ropes, trying to stabilize his equilibrium. Seconds later harsh biting laughter snapped across the deck as the wench holding the net released its cargo. The weight of the carbon mess around his body pressed him against the filthy steel. He glared from face to face that hovered around openly mocking.

“Looks like we caught ourselves a live one boys!” An atrocious, bare chested man bellowed out. The man rammed a heavy boot into the mer’s side. The anguished shout earned taunting laughter from the crew. The man crouched down, grabbing the mer's face in a tight hold. “You're not going to give us any more trouble. Pity you're so pretty otherwise we’d have fun with you. Some big shot would pay big bucks for you unharmed.” The man's hand came down, fist slamming into the mer's face despite the thick net and knocking the creature flat. “Relatively unharmed.” The man shook his hand, blood curling to the surface from the rough texture of the net against knuckles. “Get him in the cargo hold. We should have a barrel down there about his size.”

The man barked orders after that but the words were lost. His ears rang. His vision blurred. He tasted blood in his mouth. One canine felt too loose. 

Rough hands grabbed at his shoulders. Snarling, he lashed out against the touch. The net still tangled about his limbs hindered the movement. His tail slapped against the deck - hollow and aching. The barbs dug deeper with the action. Suppressing a howl, his blurred vision darted from one human to another as they circled.

“Do we take the net off?” One human wearing loud, full body orange coveralls spoke up.

“Fuck if I know.” The human was tall, lanky, all limbs.

“Boss wants it alive. Leave it in the net. Just haul the bitch across the deck.” Two rough, gloved hands wrapped around the base of the net and his tail. He snapped his head across a scaled shoulder. Big mistake. Despite the gloves, the human's arms were bare and his spines flashed out, digging and injecting in moments. The human howled, recoiling and earning a cacophony of laughter from the crowd. The fool’s screams of agony silenced all other noise. Curses flew from the idiot’s mouth. The rest of the crew suddenly gave him a wide berth.

Despite the blood, the pain, the net, he rumbled out a dark chuckle. The sound was bone chilling and a flash of deadly sharp teeth gave him a small measure of satisfaction. The man continued howling, the stung arm beginning to swell to horrid proportions. Orange coveralls moved forward, cautious but yanked on the barbed end of the net, dragging him across the deck.

Another human appeared from the corner of his eye and what they carried caused him to tense. The brutal machete flashed before coming down, severing his spines and causing him to scramble against the deck, yowling as the crimson and toxin poured out. Panting, gloves hands grabbed at his arms, pressing down on his shoulders and a heavy boot pushed his head down. He struggled, trying to get free, trying to deliver another agonizing sting. Another chop at the spines, more pain, his tail flailed against the onslaught but with the weight of several humans kept him in place. Beautiful scales marred by hacked marks.

When the spines were gone, he couldn't breathe, chest heaving against the agony. The boat suddenly tipping to the side went almost unnoticed. The storm that had been brewing was a sudden raging banshee. It seemed the sea did not pander to fools abusing her inhabitants. The ship rocked again and he was slammed against the railing, barely scrambling for purchase, the net a dead weight around his body. The heavy ends slipped over the edge, dragging his mutilated body overboard and splashing back into the sea.

Calm surrounded him. The current cradled his battered and broken body. Under the waves he was safer but the net remained, dragging him to the bottom. With an effort, gritting his teeth until his lip bled he managed to wriggle free from the contraption. The net fell away but the blood turning the water red around him was another problem. One he couldn't address. Curling up over himself, the current took him towards the cliffside. If he could get there to the caverns he knew he could heal in peace. If only… He felt himself slip into unconsciousness, darkness swallowing him and the ocean took him on its whim.

\-----

Lunch settled in his belly, a country song whistling from his lips, and his boots kicked up sand. Peacekeeper’s presence a comfortable weight against his hip. There was a soft breeze across the ocean, rustling his stetson and whipping the fringes of his serape around. He ate more than he should have. The slight drowsiness that began to circle around evident of that.

He enjoyed disappearing in this part of the watchpoint because of the quiet. The constant hum of drones and machinery became inaudible. Just the sea, his thoughts, and the occasional gull. A small collection of tide pools were just around the bend in the cliffs. He knew this place well. An outcropping offered a painter's view of the horizon.

Rounding the corner, his boots came to a stop. There had been a storm earlier and finding debris washed up was not uncommon but the heavy duty fishing net was a new one. Jesse approached, toeing the contraption and noted the nasty barbs ringing the weights. Whatever this had been meant to contain wasn't supposed to escape. Grimacing at the thought, his gloved hand grabbed the mess and hauled the net further up shore. He could carry it back to the watchpoint and destroy it later. He came out here to relax. Cleaning up some other idiot's garbage could be handled when he wasn't so full.

Net stowed, Jesse continued around the bend, whistling once more and stopping abruptly again. He sighed. The glitter of scales caught his eyes. Another beached creature. It happened with the severe storms sometimes, and he had cleaned up a few poor animals. They were never alive when he found them. 

Jesse stubbed a toe into the ground, slight annoyance at his planned peace being derailed. Hands shoved into his pockets, he continued around the bend. The tail gave way to brilliant colors. Deep reds splattered across the side. An equally dark royal followed the spine of the appendage. Thin membrane fan-like fins sprawled out across the sands. The rest of the tail was a stained white, giving that portion a pink tinge. Broken, bent spines ran the length of the tail, past the waist, growing smaller but still pronounced up to the base of a strong neck. 

Jesse came to a full stop. This wasn't a whale or some unfortunate dolphin. The top half of the creature exposed itself as a  _ man _ .

“Shit.” 

Jesse felt his hand go to the revolver at his side, brushing the handle and approached the seemingly unconscious creature. Mers were not something he had experience with. They were a menace to sailors. Jesse had never seen one - much less one washed up on a lonely stretch of beach looking like it had been run through a shredder.

His boots stopped by the creature’s shoulders. The subtle rise and fall indicated that it wasn't dead. Laying on its right side, the marksman noted the intricate pattern of deep blue and gold scales crawling across the creature's shoulder, chest and arm. The pattern seemed random enough but he swore it resembled a serpent spiraling around the mer's arm. The tattoo spread only on one side as far as he could tell.

Jesse pulled the glove off his hand, pressing fingers against the side of the creature's neck. His digits met strange flesh give and his hand jerked back. A set of gills lay where one would normally check for a pulse. . Small flaps of skin covered them. He had just effectively poked them. The action hadn't gone unnoticed as a deep snarl came from the creature. 

Jesse snapped his head up. His brown eyes met with a narrowed, slightly swollen but infuriated coffee gaze. Inky black hair fell around the creature's face and shoulders - partially hiding the glare.

“Easy now. I ain't gonna hurt ya,” Jesse tried to keep his voice calm, rocking back on his heels and holding both hands up to show they were empty. 

The creature bared razor teeth. The movement may have been quick in other circumstances but the sluggish claw that came around aimed at Jesse’s chest was easily caught by the metallic hand. 

“Hey now. That ain't polite.” Jesse held the claw, grip firm around the wrist even as the creature snarled again, tugging against the gunslinger's hold.“Stop. It looks like you've gone ten rounds with a shark. I'm gonna just check you over alright?” 

Jesse maintained his grip on the arm, letting the creature fight but he could feel how weak the tugs were. The mutilated spines, hacked up tail, and swollen cheek under one of the creature's eyes all markers of a nasty encounter. Jesse knew the sympathetic expression that passed across his face when the creature raised its lip in a sneer. A breath of air passed between its teeth as a huff of annoyance. The mer's hand went limp, head falling back against the sand and seemed to have accepted that Jesse wasn't leaving any time soon. 

“Knew you’d come around.” Jesse smirked at the quick rise and fall of the mer’s chest and snorted.

Holding his glove in his metal hand, Jesse began scanning the various injuries. Some were already healing but the brunt of the damage was to the tail. Flowing, paper thin fins lay limp against the beach. Jesse touched the first of the hack marks. 

The mer jerked at the contact and Jesse immediately stopped prodding around. It appeared as though something had been sliced off the tail but what he couldn't be sure. Blood still flowed in half clotted streams down the white scales. Angela could handle these injuries properly.

“Alright. I'm going to move you. I have a doctor friend who can fix you up,” Jesse offered with what he hoped was a comforting expression, slipping his glove back on and slide both arms under the creature’s lower back and where Jesse guessed knees would've been. 

Immediately the mer hissed, writhing in Jesse's grip. The tail slapped at the marksman's head knocking his hat askew. 

“Stop wiggling. I'm trying to help-” Another face full of scales and fury. “Alright. That is enough of that!” 

Jesse shifted his grip on the creature, mindful of the injuries and tossed the mer over his shoulder. The outlaw was rewarded with the sound of bone on armor. Jesse laughed as claws scrambled for purchase against the backside of his armor.

“Sorry but that ain't gonna work. Holy shit!” 

The mer was dropped to the beach with a graceless flop that elicited a howl. Jesse was more concerned about the series of new holes in his backside. The creature was holding himself up, chest off the ground and front half balanced on forearms grimacing, trying to curl into a ball. 

Jesse rubbed at the new wounds. Angela would have a joy examining them. 

“I'm guessing you don't understand a lick of what I'm saying but I'm trying to help you.” 

The gunslinger crouched down again, eye level with the mer and speaking each word slowly.The mer’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing, panting between partially cracked lips. The burgeoning black eye forming under the creature’s cheek added to the pitiful imagery. Jesse noticed it then. The odd angle at which the end of the mer's tail was hanging indicated more injuries. 

With a sigh, Jesse reached forward to try wrangling the creature again. He was met by a set of claws suddenly against his throat. The mer - despite injuries - suddenly was lightning quick. The previous sluggishness was a rouse. 

Jesse yelled when his bum smacked against the beach, the weight of the mer pressed into his thighs. The hand that wasn't against his throat grappled and twisted into his serape. Those teeth bared inches from Jesse's face. The gunslinger took a moment to inspect the distinct features: all angles, sharp lines, high bones, and a widow's peak. Sanguine scales created interesting dashes underneath each narrowed eye. Jesse had thought they were blood.

“Calm your tits,” Jesse began to edge his hand towards the revolver, talking to keep the mer distracted. “Like I said, I'm here to help. I ain't gonna hurt ya.” 

The claws retracted, drawn away from Jesse's throat inch by inch. The outlaw's hand wrapped around the grip of his weapon. 

“That's it. Nice and easy. Now if you’d kindly get off my legs-” Jesse's free hand had gone to push away the mer's arm. His reward was a hiss and those claws  pressed flush against his throat. “Alright. Alright. Slow movements. I gotcha. Look. See. The hand is going away.” 

Jesse's other hand came up with a snap, the barrel of Peacekeeper pressed against the underside of the creature's throat, hammer cocked. The mer stiffened, eyes darting between the marksman and the gun. A flash of fright across those coffee eyes. 

“You know what this is yeah. You know what it can do.” 

The mer snarled, the hand wrapped in the serape punching holes through the fabric and scraping against the chestplate. Jesse took that as as good an answer as he would get.

“Good. Now I'm serious. I don't want to hurt ya. I just want to help but if you're gonna make this difficult then I ain't got no choice in the matter.” 

The mer emitted a half choked noise, drawing back, easing off of Jesse's thighs. The gunslinger kept the barrel pointed at the creature, wincing as he rose back into a crouched position, eyes always on the mer.

“Glad you've come to your senses. Now this part you ain't gonna like but, I promise, it is with the best intentions.” 

The butt of the gun connected with the mer's jaw. The creature's head whipped to the side, hands going out to steady and catch himself before stumbling forward, chest slamming into the beach. Out cold. 

“Sorry fella. You're gonna feel that later but I promise it's for your own good.”

Still, Jesse winced sympathetically at the sound of Peacekeeper hitting flesh. Minutes later the gunslinger was limping, his backside tender from abuse, and hefting the mer bridal style back to the watchpoint. 

“Angela ain't going to be happy about this.” 

Jesse examined the creature the whole walk back. He cursed and was left panting after the uphill climb along the cliffside. The creature did not once stir and he had to double check for breathing - holding an ear far too close to dangerous jaws to catch the faintest wisps of air - more than once. 

When he made it to the hangar bay Jesse was gulping down air, yearning for a cigar and dragged the creature to the medbay.

“Hey doc. I got a special case for you,” Jesse shouted, announcing his arrival.

Angela turned, looking like  a mother about to yell as she shifted abruptly at the sight of the injured mer in the gunslinger's arms. The doctor offered snapping orders and went to work - off handedly questioning Jesse where he had fished up this one.

\-----

First his jaw hurt. Then his head began to pound. There was pain in his tail and he shifted, wiggling it to test the extent of the damage. His lungs gulped down air, seemingly starved. There was something cool against his back. His hands slicked against a smooth surface, slipping and splashing his chest with lukewarm water.  _ Wait. Water?  _ He finally opened his eyes, repressing a hiss as the too bright fake light blazed overhead. He blinked, clearing his vision of the blurred edges.

The room was small - downright tiny - and was sterile white. Whatever contraption that human had left him in was cramped, his tail hanging over the lip. He scratched at his arm, noting the wrapping around the upper part of his forearm. Claws tapped against the material, cutting through to reveal slight bruising. 

With a shift, he pulled his body further up against the wall behind him. Coolness seeped against the bare skin. The movement brings a wince. Then he noticed the reason for the dull ache in his tail. His spines had been completely removed - he could no longer feel even the hacked up stubs left by the poachers. But this was not all.The last few inches of his tail is just gone. Fin replaced with a nub.

He scrambled forward, hands tentative to touch the remainder of his tail. What had that human done to him? Snarling, his gaze darted around for answers but the small room offered nothing. Twisting his body, ignoring the pains that wracked him, he gripped the edge of the strange white container and dragged himself out of the shallow base of water. 

What resulted was him sprawled across the cool floor, panting, angry at being so weak and his now useless tail flopped up against the side of the container - mocking him.

There was a soft click. His muscles tensed, claws flexing in anxiety, when the door to the tiny room was pushed open. The edge of the door smacked against his shoulder and he snarled. The figure in the entrance stopped, taking in the sight. He glared up at the human immediately recognizing the fool that had found him on the beach.

“Whoa there. You're gonna rip open your wounds if you keep crawling around like that. Angela won't be too happy if you put all her hard work to waste,” the human seemed to find the situation amusing but the idiot was not so dense as to rush forward. “Look I'm going to help move you. I was going to try and clean ya up a little. Please don't bite me.”

“I am not an invalid,” he snapped in retort. That seemed to surprise the human whose face opened to the emotion.

“Wait you can talk?” The human rocked back on his heels. That's when he noticed the cloth in the metallic hand. What was that for?

“Of course.” His brow ticked in annoyance.

“Well then why didn't you say so down at the beach? It would've saved me a whole lot of guessing and pain.” The human sounded genuinely put out. 

The mer chuckled, rising up to balance himself on his forearms.“I did not want your assistance,” he shifted his tail, bringing it up to expose the removed spines and partial amputation. The human seemed to get the silent accusation.

“Oh. Yeah,” the human rubbed at the back of his head, looking away. “I'm real sorry about that. Angela tried to save it but the nerves were severed and there was no response past what you see. She didn't want to risk infection by leaving the dead flesh attached. That spear or whatever that got you nicked the nerves just right. We tried to save it. Truth be told we were more worried about keeping ya alive. You didn't take too well to the anesthesia and Angela nearly lost ya twice on the table.” The human had scooted forward, too close to him and he growled a soft warning.

“Why not let me die? You have handicapped me, cut my tail, removed my spines, and surely intend to release me now that I am awake.” His narrowed eyes pierced holes into the human’s forehead.

“That’s a rather nasty way of expressing your thanks for us saving your life,” the human didn't even appear apologetic. Angered he pushed up with his arms and flung himself at the idiot. What would normally have been an impressive surprise assault ended short and he was sprawled across the floor with claws wrapped around one of the human’s ankles. 

“You done?” The human raised a brow, infuriatingly amused expression smeared across a bearded face.

“Yes.” He released the grip on the boot, pulling the arm back and crossed them under his chin.

“Good. Now I'm gonna pick you up and take you back to med bay. Think you can cooperate with me long enough to not slap my hat off again?” The human had stood back up, shuffling across the floor to just beside him. “You ready?” No answer. He gave the human the cold shoulder. Being helpless was the worst feeling and it was becoming an oppressive weight. “Whether or not up you go now.”

The human's warm hands wrapped around his chest and lower half and hoisted him into the air. Still irritated, he slapped the ruined end of his tail against the idiot's head, knocking the hat sideways.

“What did I just say?” The human finally showed something other than frustrated amusement.

“I did not agree to your terms.” He was smug despite claws digging into the strange red cloth for purchase.

“No. Guess you didn't.” The human shifted, adjusting his weight and he wished for his spines. That would be a pleasant and nasty surprise. “So do you got a name? I can't keep just calling you the mermaid. Tastes kind of rude.”

So the human did have some manners.

Surprising.

“Shimada.” He adjusted in the grip, ramming an elbow into the human’s side and grinning at the grunt the movement elicited. 

“Thank ya kindly,” the human grinned around a wince of pain. “Name’s McCree. Pleasure to meet ya.” 

If his hands had been empty he was certain the human would be tipping that ridiculous hat. The human - McCree - was pleasantly quiet for the rest of the insufferable and humiliating walk.

The metallic walls and echo of McCree's boots combined with his own breathing was all that surrounded him. Any chance he could he jabbed an elbow into the human's side. McCree just rolled with the hits. He gave up trying to get a rise out of the idiot after the fifth incident.

“How did I almost die?” He finally broke the silence.

“Just what I said. You were dead on the table twice and Angela brought you back. You ain't got the same workings as us humans so it was a lot of hit and miss.” 

They entered a room. Another sterile, all white space. McCree placed him on a bed, the soft fabric strange against his skin. 

“Stay right here. I'm gonna go get Angela. Let her know you're awake.” McCree patted his arm before disappearing around a floor to ceiling cabinet. 

He snarled a warning. The human was too friendly.He turned into his side - the scales shoulder resting against the strange cushions - and took in the surroundings. He had only a moment of quiet. The soft hum of machines lulled him into a calmer state of mind. The clack of those strange accessories on the human’s - McCree's - feet and another set of quieter footsteps approached. Two voices entered his hearing next. One annoying and the other pleasant - motherly almost.

“It's good to see you're awake. Jesse said he already explained your condition.” The woman had a beaming smile. She was sincere.

“Jesse?” He asked.

“Yeah. My name. I gave you my last one seeing as how you didn't seem to want to get familiar,” McCree gave a soft chuckle.

“Like a woman.” The human sputtered at that. The mer smirked. Point.

“Do you have any questions? Feel any pain? Dizziness? Headache?” The woman, Angela, cut in to stop the verbal brawl before it began. 

She came to his side, a soft hand reaching over to gently turn him onto his back. Her delicate digits examined the various mending wounds across his tail, helping him flip onto his stomach to see where spines should have been. She touched him with care, and he allowed her exploring fingers the right to his body.

“I am assuming Jesse did not tell you about the prosthetic we had commissioned for you? I am not sure how to replace your spines unfortunately.”

“The spines will grow back,” he said. “Unless you removed the base of each.”

“I did not. I am unsure of how your anatomy operates so I merely trimmed back and sealed the wounds as best I could.” Angela removed her hands from their examination. All business. She adjusted the glasses on her nose before turning to pick up a data pad on a side table. “Your spines hold a poison correct?”

“They do.” He was tentative in answering, suddenly on edge. Where was she going with this?

“I took a sample while you were under. It is in the lab right now but if you could perhaps offer me more details about how it works. I would appreciate it.” She smiled then - bright and warm.

“Neurotoxin. Immense pain. Shortness of breath. Heart attack.” He ticked off the points, sight focused on the woman's reaction or lack thereof. McCree or Jesse however winced at each item. Good. He flashed a toothy smirk at the man. “In short you'll wish you were dead.”

“Thank you,” the woman responded, tapping the data pad before setting it back down. She grabbed a strange black cuff and strapped it around his upper arm. “To check your blood pressure.” She offered as explanation to the question on his face. He accepted this. Shuffling from Jesse was what filled the silence.

“Well I'm going to excuse myself. Gotta check on the… Project.” The last word was spoken with a hint of secrecy. 

He glared at the other man. Suspicion rose in his chest. He was only accepting this poking and prodding because they had not given him a reason to act as anything other than mildly civil. 

McCree darted out of the room, all but bouncing and those strange ornaments on the human's shoes clanked loudly.

“Why does he blather about?” He questioned, still on his stomach, brushing a little slip of hair off his shoulder.

“He will want to show you himself. Since finding and carrying you in here he hasn't left. I've had to chase him out to sleep and eat.” She moved away, patting his shoulder as an indication that he could move. 

Rolling onto his side, he watched the doctor remove the cuff and move around the room.

“He is a man child?” He sneered.

“He can be, yes, but he has the best intentions I promise.” Angela had grabbed the data pad again. “I have a few more questions if you don't mind?” 

“Very well.” He settled down as best as possible given the situation. “But, first, tell me about this prosthetic.” 

Anything to distract him from a little voice that had started nagging in the back of his mind.

\-----

Jesse was carrying the mer against his chest. His hat had suffered another misfortune from an abusive tail, and he gave up trying to scold the mer. Shimada took a twisted pleasure in batting the accessory around. Jesse thought if it got the mer to relax then a few insults were worth it.

The hangar bay was not the best of destinations but Jesse had chosen this spot because it allowed for a view of the cliffs and the ocean beyond. Sitting innocently before the only window was an enormous shipping container. Jesse had had to coerce Lindholm to let him use the heavy machinery to move the metal monstrosity. Jesse had then used a torch to cut the top panel off. A few burns and curse words later, he had sealed the entire inside. Filling the container with water had taken every water hose in the watchpoint. That and several hours. The water bill would be massive.

“Where are you taking me?” Shimada was looking around, back stiff against Jesse’s arm. Again with the bridal style transportation.

“It's a surprise. Since Angela said you would need daily check ups and we wanted to make sure you didn't turn into shark bait with a broken tail, I had a temp home made for ya,” Jesse beamed from cheek to cheek. 

The lines between Shimada's brows tightened, claws tapping to betray the anxiety curling in the mer's chest. Jesse could guess the fella did not appreciate surprises. Pity.

The duo approached a step ladder that Jesse had borrowed from Lindholm. It was shoved against the side of the container. The mer eyed the metal box warily. Adjusting his grip, Jesse climbed the stairs and once at the top of the ladder exclaimed with a loud ‘ta da’ in triumph.

“A tank. You made me a tank. I am  _ not  _ a fish!” Shimada's reaction caught him off guard and Jesse looked down in surprise.

“Well you could look at it like that or maybe you could see it as a temporary home.” Jesse felt himself deflate, scrambling for words that escaped him as Shimada only glared unbroken and unnerving. “I even made sure you could see the ocean. I figured you’d want to go back to the water.” 

The mer wiggled a little in his arms and the gunslinger knelt down, letting the creature slip into the water. Still crouched down, Jesse watched Shimada flounder, growl, and dive down into the water. Immediately Shimada sunk to the bottom of the container with his back turned to Jesse. The gunslinger ran a finger across the surface creating a few ripples to distract himself.

“So you're just gonna stay down there then?” 

Shimada didn't move, didn't acknowledge the words. Jesse wondered if the mer could even hear him but when the gunslinger spoke again the withering glare he received quickly cleared up those questions. 

“Alright then. I'll leave you here. I'm not sure what you eat but I'll be sure to bring you back something.” The cheer in his voice was strained, and, again, Jesse only received a cold shoulder in return.

He stayed there, crouched despite the complaints from his calves, and watched the mer. Through the refraction of the water the lines of Shimada's figure distorted but the image was melancholy. 

Jesse wasn't blind. He had seen how without a complete tail Shimada had struggled for control. The mer was too proud to admit a weakness. Jesse studied the way the thin membranes of the mer's fins danced, weaving through the water. How the amputated portion of tail seemed to ruin the picture. How the black tendrils of hair floated like the perfect frame around strong shoulders. 

Jesse could see all too easy how the creatures could drown victims. They presented the disguise of perfection - beautiful, deadly perfection. He wondered if Shimada had a song. The gunslinger had a fleeting thought -  _ I'd die to hear it. _

\-----

The hangar bay was quiet when he returned arms laden with a few different food options. Jesse wasn't sure what a mer would even eat. Fish, presumably, but on the off chance Shimada was adventurous, Jesse has also cooked up a burger and tacos. Simple items everyone enjoyed. Angela had chided him for offering his unhealthy eating habits to her patient, but Jesse had assured the doctor he would not force anything on the mer that he didn't want. 

The container blocked the window. The sunset beaming through the expanse of glass caused the single figure to glow. A halo of subtle pink and orange hues enveloped the head and shoulders of the mer. Shimada rested against the lip of the container, back to Jesse and eyes focused on the world outside the hangar bay. The gunslinger stopped, memorizing the picture, afraid to interrupt the beauty.

His rumbling stomach reminded the gunslinger why he was here. Jesse cleared his throat before bellowing out a hearty greeting. 

The mer turned, the sunset catching off of those crimson scales under Shimada’s eyes before the creature disappeared under the water. 

Jesse shifted his grip on the items, glad he had the foresight to bring everything on a tray - albeit the tray was cookie sheet - as he jostled the items while clambering up the ladder. At the top, he glanced down, trying to locate the mer and spotting Shimada once more down at the bottom, back turned to the gunslinger. The creature was a difficult study.

“Evenin’ Shimada. I brought ya some food. Wasn’t sure what you’d like but I figured you’d want to put something in your belly.” 

No response. 

A few bubbles popped the surface which Jesse interpreted as a disgruntled sigh. He set the sheet down, proceeded to pop off each boot, roll up his jeans and hung his feet over the edge of the container, kicking his feet into the water. Jesse noticed the mer’s shoulders stiffen, a quick glance over the intricate scale pattern before another set of bubbles broke the surface. It was a reaction at least.

“I brought some stuff I like and some stuff I thought you might. I wasn’t sure about what you eat so worst comes to worst you can stop sulking and tell me what you prefer,” Jesse offered, beginning to munch down on the burger. He hoped to enjoy or at least coax the mer into sharing a meal. 

Jesse turned back to look at his feast. It would be a shame if the food went to waste but you can only lead a horse to water. His toes wiggled in the water causing small ripples that amused him greatly. Another bite of the burger, dusting crumbs out of his beard. The last shipment of meat had been bison instead of beef and Jesse was savouring the treat.

“I’m surprised you ain’t hungry. Not sure if Angela told ya or not but you were under for about a week. We feed ya intravenously just the basics. Weren’t sure what you could stomach.” 

Jesse knew he was blabbering but he wanted to engage the mer. Truth be told, outside of the depraved indulgences of the rich and famous, mermaids were a creature reserved for the elite. They were known for cutting nets, scaring away whole schools of fish or even outright attack sailors that refused to get the first warnings. 

When caught, they would be sold to the highest bidder or butchered for the poison in their spines. Something about aphrodisiacs. He wondered how Shimada had ended up on the beach with a broken tail and missing spines. Jesse had returned to the beach the day after bringing the mer into the medbay and disposed of the net still tucked away on the sand. He had shown the barbs to Angela. She had thanked him and then said to get rid of the horrible contraption. The net was thrown into storage - to be forgotten.

Jesse tried a few more times to get some response from the mer but the most was the cold glare. Leaving the fish and tacos, the gunslinger tipped his hat to the back his head and descended down the ladder with boots in hand. He left with a promise to return in the morning. More bubbles.

\-----

Sulking. That was what he was doing. It was pitiful and he didn't care. The human meant well enough, but being trapped in a box felt like a nightmare. The horror stories of his kind taken, disappearing aboard ships. Those few who escaped were changed. He doubted that these people would go to the trouble of keeping him alive if they intended to harvest the toxin from his spines. He would already be dead.

When the human left he waited, settled at the bottom of the container. Solid unforgiving metal dug into his back. He flipped over, floating, staring at the ceiling, adjusting his weight every few seconds. With half a tail missing, his balance was off. He would surely be shark food if he were in the ocean. Easy prey for poachers if they found him. Perhaps he had that to be thankful for. 

In here, in this tank, there was at least the illusion of safety. Palms pushed against the floor, padded to the surface, and scooted over to the platform. The last drops of water were drying from where the human had once stood. 

The food was strange. Fish he knew but there were no scales - just fleshy bits and they appeared burnt. He raised a brow. They had cooked the meal. He would have laughed had it not been so ridiculous. This human meant well but surely even a child could understand that his kind did not bother with the human processes of food preparation. At least the human hadn't just thrown some minnows into the tank and called it a day.

The thought of hunting caused his palms to itch, a thrill through his spine. Pulling himself out of the water and onto the platform, he picked up the strange hard shell. He sniffed it. There was meat but what kind he could only guess. There was also a bland green leafy thing, a handful of sweet red cubes, yellow plastic tasting sticks and a white cream. 

He took a bite from the side. The contents tasted well enough together but the yellow strings left his mouth dry. He grunted in annoyance when the shell broke at the second bite and half of the contents fell across his lap. Staring down at the mess, he looked around. The strange food was returned to the metal tray as he grabbed the far edge of the platform, tipping over and brushed the disarray onto the floor. 

He was not going to unnecessarily leave filth in the container. That brought another concern. Without an active current, how did the human's expect him to keep the water clean? Despite injury he still had basic needs. The idea of swimming in his own filth culled any appetite he may have once had.

Slipping back into the water, he followed the edge of the container and looked out the window. It was fully dark now but that didn't bother him. Eyes that could see in the murk and mire of kelp forests and underwater caves offered a view of the ocean beyond. Gulls danced through the skies. Waves lapped at the stone facades. His tail lazily swished back and forth in time with the sound of water licking the shoreline. His arms crossed, chin resting against the makeshift pillow, unable to keep the longing out of his wistful gaze. He wanted to know if those poachers had returned. If the fish they hunted had escaped. If those damnable humans were still searching for him even.

The image of his brother floated across his vision. That fool would be worried by now. If what McCree had said was true being gone a week was highly unusual. A few days was normal. Sometimes he required the time away from the high energy sibling to just relax. They had a silent understanding. When he wanted to be left alone he would venture to these waters, harass poachers and return in a few days. He gave his brother three days before the impulsive fool came looking. Perhaps he would talk with McCree about finding a way to deliver a message to the kelp headed brat. 

He allowed himself to slip under the surface, drifting to the bottom of the container and curling into himself. Had his spines been intact they would have created a warning against potential attackers. Like a shell the delicate membranes of his fins encased his fleshy upper body and embraced him in a soft, flowing touch. Still, he slept light and many times through the night awoke to the strange noises of metal shifting, the thrill of sea birds or scurrying claws of a rat across concrete.

\-----

That morning he woke earlier than usually. Perhaps it was nerves. Perhaps it was excitement. Most likely a combination of both with a dash of intrigue peppered in. 

Whatever the case, Jesse found himself clambering up the ladder to the makeshift tank balancing a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and lightly fried fish filet. The last item had been against Angela’s advice - again chiding the gunslinger for his dietary neglect and trying to pass those habits off on their guest. Jesse had assured the good doctor - again - he would not force anything on the mer, grabbed a coffee mug, and left the kitchen.

Cresting the rise of the ladder, he spotted the left overs from the night before. One of the tacos had been touched but everything else was as Jesse had left it. Scooting around the cookie sheet, he scanned the tank not spying the mer right away. There, curled in the corner, was a ball of brilliant fanning tails and shimmering royal, white, and crimson scales. The ball wasn't moving.

Jesse set down the breakfast plate, holding the coffee mug behind him to tap a bare foot against the water's surface. He had come to the hangar bay bare foot and was now thankful for the decision. Other than a little wetness around the hem of his sweatpants, he did not want to stick slick feet into boots. Sweat was one thing, water another, and, frankly, his boots needed to be aired out after last night.

Jesse slapped the surface again when the first didn't get a response. Again nothing. Crouching down, rocking on his heels, the coffee mug found a home next to the breakfast plate and the gunslinger smacked both palms against the water calling the mer’s name. Moments of silence. He thought he saw a shift in the colorful ball of scales but no dark eyes glared up in annoyance.

“Shit. I swear if you're dead because of a taco…” Jesse cursed while ripping off his shirt and diving into the tank. 

With two power thrusts, the gunslinger floated in the water before the curled up mer. The sweatpants - thick wool material - helped to pull him to the bottom. Metallic hand grabbed at the tail, wrapping around where Jesse figured the mer's waist was. 

Three things happened at once. One, Shimada jerked awake, turned, and wrapped himself around the gunslinger. Two, Jesse gasped at the sudden assault and released the majority of the air from his lungs. Three, the mer had his fangs a hair's breadth away from tearing out the gunslinger's throat.

Jesse was rigid, fighting both the tight grip and burning from his lungs. In a moment the mer released him, dragging the floundering man to the surface. Fresh lines creased Shimada's brow and Jesse felt a pang of regret. Coughing, kicking water out of his lungs the gunslinger tread the water while the mer only peered at him, the lower portion of Shimada's face hidden beneath the surface.

“Glad to see ya ain't dead.” A nervous chuckle, Jesse splaying his fingers out, back pedaling towards the platform. He hoisted himself up, plopping a wet backside onto cold steel. “I’d be a terrible rescuer if I couldn't keep my charge alive.” 

All Jesse's heating received a calculating glare from the mer. Shimada hadn't moved from where he floated, arms lazily swaying back and forth under the water keeping the mer in place. 

“Giving me the silent treatment? I guess I did wake ya up. Sorry about that.” Jesse rubbed the back of his head with his prosthetic arm.“Anyway I brought breakfast. Seeing as how you didn't eat much of dinner maybe we could converse like civil folk and find something that you would eat?” Jesse hoped he didn't sound silly. 

The mer edged closer until he was almost touching the legs the gunslinger still had dangling in the water. He swam closer, his chest heaving before pulling himself out of the water, arms folded over each other on the platform.

Jesse grabbed the coffee mug, sipping the still hot beverage.  He noted how the mer took a moment - in apparent pain and gasping - before his breath evened out. 

“Does it hurt to breathe air?”

“No. The transition is merely an inconvenience,” Shimada snapped curtly He reached for the tray, snatching at a piece of bacon and sniffing it cautiously. Shimada tapped a claw against the coffee mug. “What is that?” 

“Good old black coffee.” Jesse smirked, sipping from the mug only to have it yanked away from his hands. “Whoo-!”

Too late. The mer took a drink and spit the liquid out of his mouth a second later.

“That is filthy. You drink sewage and enjoy it?” Shimada scoffed, munching on the bacon and judging by the expression of minor disgusted, the mer didn't outright hate the greasy treat as much.

“Nah. I just prefer it strong. You can add stuff to sweeten it. Sugar. Honey. Milk. Anything you want,” Jesse smiled over the rim of the mug. 

The mer grimaced, forcing himself to finish the bacon before scooping up the fish and spitting that out as well.

“Do you have something… alive?” Shimada ground out the last bit as though it was painful to admit. 

Jesse couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. The mug was now empty, set in the tray, his body tensing involuntarily. 

“I don't eat humans,” Shimada assured “The flesh is too chewy.” The grin - despite being teasing - was also menacing, revealing the row of sharp teeth the mer possessed.

“I'll see what I can do,” Jesse offered. “You going to eat anything else?” A shake of the head - negative. “Alright. I'll check in with ya when I can but do you need anything else?” 

A second shake yet the movement was curt, the mer catching Jesse's eyes.

“Yes. Will you be cleaning this water? With no flow it will become… unsanitary.” Shimada sneered at the words. 

Jesse got the implication, suddenly feeling foolish. Of course. Without filtration the water would get murky. Even mers had basic bodily needs. A rather unfortunate oversight on the gunslinger's part.

“I will see what we can rig up.” It was the best he could offer at the moment, making a note to call in that favor Lindholm owed him. “It ain't too bad right now?”

“No. It is suitable.” Jesse felt the annoyance as clear as a bullet: the mer loathed the idea of being held captive. The gunslinger made another note to check on the progress of the prosthetic.

“Well the idea’s to get you fixed up and out of here as soon as possible. Got family that misses ya?” Jesse hoped to steer the conversation away from the subject of the tank. No need to drive in that barb anymore than it already stung.

“No.”

“Oh well-”

“None that matter.” 

The mer slipped back into the water with a shove, falling to the bottom of the tank. Back turned towards the gunslinger, the mer curled his tail around his body into the spiral Jesse had awoken. The action was a defense mechanisms. Much in the same way the claws and fangs were. 

Jesse sighed, grabbed the cookie sheet, piling both breakfast and dinner onto each other and left the hangar bay. 

Inside the tank, the mer wallowed in a ball of self loathing and anguish - the least of these thoughts being an irrational anger towards the human,Jesse. One, for bringing to the surface such memories he had not visited in years, and, two, because the foolish, idiot human woke him by all but jabbing the mer below the belt. That he had not outright snapped the human's head from his shoulders at touching him in such an intimate way led credence to the nagging, and the mer thrashed his tail at the meaning.

\-----

“You're a better patient than most.” Angela's voice was warm, caring as she dabbed at the injection site, cotton ball pressed to the mer's flesh to stem the blood flow.

Two days had passed since their guest had been moved to the makeshift tank. Jesse had kept her abreast of his concerns over the mer not eating or picking pieces here and there. Otherwise the gunslinger had reported that Shimada's wounds appeared to be on the mend. The mer wouldn't let him get too close though so Jesse couldn't give a full report. 

Angela had handled stubborn before. She came to the hangar bay expecting to have to call in half the watchpoint to wrangle the mer but he had surprised her. At her first request to see his injuries Shimada had obligingly hoisted himself onto the ladder platform and sat silent while she inspected his wounds. Then, he turned so she could see the progress of the spines, assuring her they would indeed grow back given time. The small buds of new growth reinforced his words.

The needle had been a minor obstacle, but Angela allowed the mer to inspect the instrument. He was mindful of the sharp end, sniffing and turning the needle over before returning it. She went through the motions of how it worked and when the mer seemed relaxed enough she sanitized the injection site. It was a basic concoction of antibiotics. With a light tone she offered a cartoon bandage for the pin prick wound but the joke fell on deaf ears and she dismissed the mer’s questioning tilt of the head.

“All done. You're healing up nicely. As for the fin, it should be completely healed in the next few days.” She patted his upper arm but the mer did not immediately slip back into the water. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Why?” One word. A thousand possibilities. His eyes filled in the blanks.

“You'll have to ask Jesse that one but I can give you this: he’sa good man. Not a nice one-” Shimada unconsciously touched his jaw where he’d first met Jesse's revolver “- but he saw someone in need and knew he could help. So he did. To him this is atoning for his past. I can't offer you much more than that because he should be the one to tell you.” Angela stood up, gathered her supplies and placed the spent needle into a plastic bag marked for destruction.

“Thank you.”

“You're most welcome Shimada. Jesse told me about your concerns for the water too. Later today he plans on remedying that but I'll let him explain.” 

The mer narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but a bang and a shout from the hangar bay door drew both their attention.

Two sets of eyes watched the gunslinger in question bolt across the hangar floor, something grey and wriggling in his arms. His shirt was soaked through leaving a trail of water behind him. 

Jesse mumbled a hasty apology to Angela when he pushed past her on the stair case. Three bodies occupying such a tiny space made a comical scene. As it was, the object Jesse had been toting splashed into the tank and the gunslinger bent over at the waist, panting, grabbing his knees.

“Jesse. No!” Angela shook her head.

“ _Jesse_ _yes!_ ”  The gunslinger had his hands on his hips with a smug expression smeared across his countenance. “I hope you like sushi fella because that bastard was hard to catch and even harder to wrangle.”

Angela turned her head at a splash from their feet. A fish. A flounder, to be precise, now swam to the bottom of the tank. The new addition had the mer's full attention. 

“He's small, but I don't know how much ya eat, so I guessed.” Jesse admitted.

“Jesse this is so unorthodox. How did you even get that thing up from the cliffs?” She rubbed the bridge of her nose at his response.

“I ran. I ain't that old Ang. That's my workout for the day though.” He chuckled. “I mean look! It looks like my hard work is about to pay off.”

Shimada had slipped back into the water during their conversation. The mer's fins appeared to expand out in the water. He moved like a predator, claws pulling his body through the water towards the flounder. The fish was frantic. It could sense something was amiss. The mer's body went rigid. In a flash the flounder disappeared behind Shimada's back and crimson began to rise around the mer's figure.

Angela watched with a critical eye while Jesse was the quintessential kid in the candy store. Until the mer turned around. Shimada's posture was predatory, the wasted hunk of fish dangling between claws and fangs. The gunslinger wrapped a hand around his mouth, gulping back lunch.

“Oh that ain't right,” Jesse wheezed.

“It's natural. You gave a  _ predator  _ his  _ prey _ . What did you expect to happen?” Angela chuckled but even she felt a little green around the gills at the blatant carnage.

“I didn't expect such a… massacre. At least he's eating,” Jesse tugged at the collar of his shirt, keeping his eyes anywhere but on the bloody mess the mer was indulging in.

“You're going to need to clean the water Jesse. Wouldn't want to risk an infection,” Angela's mocked in a sing-song manner as she patted Jesse’s shoulder and climbed down the ladder. 

“Yeah. Infection.” 

Watching the display only reminded him how dangerous their guest was. The image of those fangs inches from his own throat played again and again. To make matters worse Shimada was purposefully glaring over his shoulder at Jesse the whole time - grizzly pieces of flesh torn from the flounder’s carcass. 

“Oh boy howdy this is gonna a long day.”

\-----

An hour later had the mer flustered and in sitting in the tub in Jesse’s room, tail dangling over the end with his arms crossed. He had licked the last of the blood from his fingers long ago. Still his fangs found bits left under the nails and picked at those now. The flounder had been a warm gesture. He could not find ulterior motives in the action. The food was filling - better than the strange choices the human had presented originally. It also allowed him a chance to hunt. The thrill, the adrenaline from finding, stalking, and chasing down prey. Flounder was not the fish of preference but he doubted Jesse had the strength to ‘wrangle’ (as he put it) a whole tuna up the cliff and into the tank. Two hundred pounds of food was a heavy order.

The reasoning for his current predicament was Jesse insisting on cleaning out the tank. There was mention of a filtration system but the mer had not seen this promise come to fruition. His claws tapped against the base where scales met flesh. 

Thoughts drifted to the man-handling the foolish human had given him. Intentional or not, the surprise of being roused from a deep sleep and feeling a calloused hand grabbing at his tender stomach had elicited the fierce reaction. Most humans did not know the anatomy of his kind. Humans studied them long enough to know how to kill or keep mers in captivity. Humans knew about the spines and properties - medicinal and spiritual - of the toxin contained within. Humans that did not kill a mer upon first contact would sell the mer to the highest bidder as an exotic pet.

Shimada scratched at his scales. A few flickered off his tail, falling into the bath water. He snapped them away with a scoff. Still he questioned why the human was bothering with helping him. Despite the doctor’s words, what kind of payoff did this have for the human? There had to be a catch. Maybe Jesse was healing him because there was a buyer already lined up and they did not want to present a damaged product. The thought echoed when a fist slammed into the wall. He grimaced at the shock sent down his arm, the claws that dug into his palm. Droplets of blood leaked down into the water, tainting the surface.

There it was again - the nagging at the back of his mind. Something intangible about the human threw his entire balance off. What it was the mer did not know. He refused to acknowledge the sensation but his body had betrayed him. The human was a fool. Jesse hadn’t noticed the slight rise to the mer’s heart beat at the unintended contact. The way that his tail had been more tender than constricting when it wrapped around the human’s body.

His palm slapped against the water in the tub.

\-----

“It ain’t fancy but it’ll hold until we get you fixed up!” Jesse beamed, the mer cradled in his arms showing off the new tank and its hobbled together filtration system. 

Lindholm had not been the most cooperative when the marksman had put in the request for the filters. The shorter man had grumbled, annoyed, puttered about and eventually the product Jesse had asked for was created. After three courses of explaining how it worked and how to clean the screens, Jesse had thanked the man with an impressive bear hug. 

Now here stood the gunslinger with the mer cradled begrudgingly in his arms. The warmth of Shimada’s skin did not go unnoticed. The lack of reaction at the announcement of the addition to the tank was disheartening.

“Down.” Shimada’s voice was to the point, pressing a hand against Jesse’s chest.

“As you wish,” Jesse smirked, leaning down and all but tossing the mer into the tank. 

The gunslinger may have put more emphasis into the thrust than necessary. The clenched jaw of the mer let Jesse know the action had not gone unnoticed. Bending down, hands on his knees, he tapped fingers against the water in a mocking manner. 

“Don’t be so sour all the time Shimada. I’m tryin’ to help ya. Even fished you up dinner. A little gratitude would be appreciated.”

“Oh?” Shimada floated just at the surface with half his face peering up at the human. Without warning, the mer reached up, claws digging into the gunslinger’s shirt and tugging him bodily into the tank. “See that as my thanks.” 

The multifaceted tail slapped against the side of the cowboy’s head earning a disgruntled sputter. The mer smirked, arms crossed, staring at the human with open condescending.

“I’ll take what I can get.” Jesse shrugged, holding his arms up a bit longer than necessary. The action garnered an immediate suspicion from the mer and Shimada took up a defensive stance, brow furrowing.

“You are so quick to give up?” The mer tilted his head.

“Nope, but there is no fight here. I’m just glad ya have a filter now because changing the water in this thing is a pain in my ass,” Jesse paddled to the edge of the platform, hoisting himself up and leaving his legs dangling in the water. “Angela says the prosthetic should be done soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“The doctor told me about this. I will need to be fitted for a…” The mer was waving his hand, searching for words.

“A coupling and don’t worry. When we first brought ya in we had you fitted and all that has already been made. Just need to get it attached to your tail,” Jesse offered. “It’s gonna hurt.” He rubbed at the junction of his own addition - recalling how painful the process had been with the first attachment.

“The doctor informed me of this.” The mer responded in a guarded manner, with his body turned slightly away from the gunslinger’s presence, almost shrinking away. 

Jesse noted the action. Other than a cocksure attitude or deadpan annoyance, this new emotion was edging on fear and uncertainty. It was progress;breaking through the hardened shell that had coated the mer since that first encounter on the beach hadn’t been easy.

“Now don’t worry none. Ol’Jesse’ll be there to help ya adjust to the new fitting and learn how to swim. Someone has to take care of you.” He hoped the expression was open. No response. Shut out just like that again. Jesse rolled his eyes, shoulders slumped forward and kicked his legs out causing waves. “I’m goin’ fishing again tomorrow. Got anything you’d like me to bring ya?”

“Tuna.” Shimada flashed his fangs, taunting the man with the impossible task, but the foolish human only smiled.

“Done.” 

The mer’s face fell for the briefest moment, revealing outright surprise, and Jesse took the opportunity to splashed water across Shimada’s face. Sputtering, the mer shook his head and growled, fists clenched at the gunslinger’s whooping laughter. 

“Now don’t look so put out. I was only joshing you! If you can pull me in then I can splash you. Only fair.”

“As you wish,” the mer responded, turning his back to the gunslinger with a quiet hum.

“Did you just… Well I’ll be damned. Looks like there is more to ya then just grumpy gills,” Jesse teased and pulled his legs out of the water, standing up to squeeze out as much of the water from his jeans as possible.

“Hanzo.”

“Beg pardon?” Jesse turned, shirt wringing between his hands.

“My name. Shimada is my surname. Hanzo is my true name.” The mer said all this over his shoulder, face turned away with a slight hunch in his posture.

“Well then Hanzo-”

“No. Han-zuo. Not Hand-zo.” The mer had turned, rumble between his teeth.

“Handzo.”

“No.”

“Haunzo.”

“Close.”

“Handzo.”

“You're going backwards now! Just stop. Please. Shimada is fine. You did not butcher my surname at least.” The mer was holding a hand to his nose, head tilted back, the picture of suppressed frustration.

“I'll get it. Eventually. I'll be by to check on ya again in the morning. Want to try coffee again?” Jesse openly bellowed at the disgusted expression that caused the mer to shake his head. “Thought not. Night Handzo.”

“Hanzo!”

“Whatever you say, darlin’!” Jesse was already descending the ladder when a wave of water crested over the edge of the tank, effectively negating any previous attempts to dry off. The marksman shook his head, almost giggling as he walked out of the hangar bay.

Hanzo was awoken the next day by a beaming Jesse and a tuna launched into the tank. The mer allowed a smirk to grace his usually dour facade, and he butchered the fish in minutes. Jesse politely declined the offer of fresh meat, looking at little queasy. Hanzo rumbled dark amusement at the expression.

\-----

The harsh light of the medical ward hurt his eyes. Though not sensitive as rumors would lead people to believe, the unnatural illumination caused the mer to wince away. He was laid out in his stomach on squishy bedding, the unfamiliar scratch of a blanket against his chest and the chill of the sterile facility brew nervous energy in his gut. 

The prosthetic was ready but first they needed to attach the coupling. The doctor, Angela, had explained the process to him at length but that knowledge expounded the tension running through his body. She had explained that for the most part he would be numb to the pain but once she started connecting nerves she would need him to feel in order to ensure the right connections were made. He had nodded, turned away and gripped the sides of the mattress. His claws ripped through the plush fabric in seconds.

Earlier, getting Hanzo out of the tank required Jesse to seek the assistance of a strange crab-clawed dwarf to help wrestle the mer out of the tank in the first place. The idea of a prosthetic was nice but his instincts had battled against being man-handled when his mental state didn't feel prepared. The duo had insisted. Hanzo only relented when the strange metal claw clamped down on his tail and sent an electric jolt through his system as a warning. The tiny dwarf man was vicious.

The coupling was cold against his tail, pressing into tender flesh still on the mend. When they had found him the spear had done its damage. The result had been the amputation of the lower left half of his tail, both anal fins and the bottom portion of his dorsal fin. The doctor talked through the process, her hands tender as she attached the straps around his tail, positioning the coupling and giving him a warning before connecting the nerves.

First a burning sensation, then bolts of electricity shocked his system as nerve endings were brought back to life. His fangs dug into the pillow, muffling the howl. Hands held down his tail - calloused, mechanical and warm - but he barely paid them mind.

Seconds later the pain diluted to tremors and he released his grip on the pillow, smacking his mouth to clear out the nasty cloth taste.

“You're doing good,” Jesse said while patting the tail under his grip with an assuring crease of his lips.

“That should be the worst of it,” the doctor explained.“You might feel a tingling when I attach the actual prosthetic but nothing serious.” 

Angela held the mechanical appendage in her hands. The device had been designed to be as water tight as conceivable with the intent of lasting through the wear and tear of constant motion. The doctor and dwarf had also taken into account that the mer would not likely not make a habit of returning for a tune up. Angela had hinted that it would be appreciated if the mer could check-in, but truth be told the mer was itching to leave captivity behind.

She attached the first of the pieces. The strangest sensation of pressure crept through the reignited nerve endings. It was like a suction cup from an octopus - clingy yet not entirely unpleasant. He had to bite the pillow again, pressing into the mattress through a haze of embarrassment and overstimulation. 

Neither human appeared to notice. Or they knew to keep their tongues in check. Surprising, considering Jesse's already proven penchant for running his mouth. Hanzo kept adjusting his grip on the pillow, claws flexing against the mattress, and quelling disturbing noises.

When the process was complete Angela stood back, wiping hands across her white overcoat and admiring the way the mechanical pieces for together. It was nowhere near as elegant as his actual tail had been but it returned the balance and movement the mer desperately missed. Jesse's hand perhaps lingered too long against his scales.

“Well time to start the fun part! Getting used to the new addition,” Jesse was already reaching to scoop the mer up.

“Wait,” Hanzo snapped. The gunslinger halted and Angela looked curious at the outburst. “I need a minute. Please.” He wasn't going to explain the why, and he ignored their questioning stares - focusing on breathing, calming his nerves before nodding consent. 

Quick as a fiddle the gunslinger had the mer in his grasp and Hanzo kept his gaze pointed at anything but the gunslinger. This whole situation was outlandish. Hanzo was doing his damnedest to ignore the implications.

“You'll get used to the prosthetic in time. Take it slow.” 

Jesse wiggled the fingers of his own mechanical arm with a knowing grin. The movement tickled against the mer's side and he hissed, jerking away at the sensation. The gunslinger's expression changed and suddenly the mer wanted to claw Jesse's eyes out.

“Don't,” Hanzo warned, one hand gripping the human's fleshy forearm.

“Wouldn't dream of it darlin’.”

The soft click of metal against itself, the new fins cumbersome out of the water was a comforting sound. The thought of being able to swim - properly and no longer that haphazard, newborn flopping he had been sequestered to had Hanzo itching to reach the tank. His subtle wriggles of anticipation did not go unnoticed but Jesse only tightened his grip, adjusting as the mer moved and they entered the hangar bay. 

Climbing the ladder, the midday sun brightening the area with promises of a warm day, Jesse dropped the mer into the tank - Hanzo all but pushing out of the gunslinger's grasp. 

Instead of taking to the water like, well, a fish, the mer thrashed about, trying to overcompensate for the weight of the new fins. Angela had assured Hanzo it would take some getting used to as his nerves would need time to readjust to being used again.

Jesse observed for a minute before cursing, slipping out of his boots and tossing his flannel off. Sitting on the edge of the tank, he eased into the water and the disturbance drew the mer's attention.

“Get over here. You don't listen very well, do ya?” 

The words were harmless and Jesse motioned for the mer to come to him. Hanzo did albeit reluctantly. This was admitting weakness. 

“That'll do. Now you're going to have to take it easy. Your muscles should remember how to work on their own in time but we're gonna encourage them to remember sooner.” 

Hanzo watched as Jesse took his tail between mechanical and flesh hands, working at the base around the sparkling prosthetics. The sensation was ticklish and soothing. Intimate. An odd combination. He didn't realize the odd purring noise coming from his throat until the gunslinger's ministrations stopped, Jesse eyeing him with blatant amusement. Hanzo grumbled, looked away, twisting to lay eyes anywhere but on the foolish human. Still, Jesse worked the scales between his hands until a pleasant warmth had Hanzo tingling, a shiver running from his tail to the base of his spine.

“That oughta do it.” 

Jesse released the tail, grabbing the thin pliable metal of the fins and spreading them out in the water. The gunslinger wrapped his arms under Hanzo's own, holding the mer up and out. 

“Now try kicking. Take it slow. Get used to the weight. If they're unbalanced let me know and I'll have Ang adjust them for ya.” Jesse's breath caressed against the side of his neck. 

The mer stiffened but did as instructed, tail moving in the water. The new prosthetics weaved about in jagged motions but they mimicked the flow of natural fins well enough. It would take some getting used to. After five minutes he could tell the weight in the dorsal fins was off - the right side too heavy - and informed the gunslinger of such. 

“I'll let Ang know.”

Every day after that - three times - the gunslinger would visit. Jesse would work out the muscles around the prosthetics then hold Hanzo by the under arms letting the mer exercise and adjust to the weight. By the fourth day Hanzo was able to hold his own, meandering through the confines of the shipping container. 

The claustrophobic tank began to feel smaller and smaller. He started yearning for the open ocean. It became blatantly apparent when Jesse found him one night - struggling fish in hand. Hanzo was staring longingly out the window, tail swinging through the water in a motion akin to a woman twirling her hair with wistful attention.

“Reckon you'll be well enough to see the ocean tomorrow. What do you think?” 

Jesse dropped the grouper into the tank and, for once, Hanzo didn't immediately mutilate the creature. Instead, the mer turned full attention to the gunslinger, sunset catching the scales under Hanzo's eyes in a dazzling display. Jesse scratched at his chin, absently motioning to the grouper that was starting to float belly up in the tank.

“Better hurry. Took me longer than normal to get that sucker up here. Not sure if he'll be lively for too long.” 

“I'm not hungry.” The mer turned back, sights only for the ocean beyond the window.

“Well then. I'll get him outta there so he doesn't spoil.” 

Jesse started the process of removing his boots, head down when the half-dead fish landed on the platform with an audible squash. Hanzo returned to the edge of the tank, arms crossed, attention focused on the sunset. 

“Nevermind.” The gunslinger grabbed the fish by the tail, hoisting it over his shoulder. “I'll leave ya to it then. We can get ya to the ocean tomorrow.” The gunslinger's words garnered no reaction. Like every night Jesse said his good night but unlike every night before, this time he got a response.

“Good night Jesse.”

\-----

"He is not a pet Jesse.” Angela rubbed the bridge of her nose, seated at the table in the communal kitchen. Her hands cupped a warm mug of coffee - two scoops of honey as sweetener.

“I realize that Ang. Think he'll return to at least have his prosthetic checked out once in awhile?” The gunslinger's metallic index finger ran a circle around the rim of his own coffee cup.

“I don't know Jesse. He is a prideful creature and he has already asked for help too many times. As a doctor I would like to think yes, he would return, but as a realist, I do not believe he will.” Angela sipped at the beverage, blue eyes judging the reaction her words brought. 

“He is a stubborn one,” Jesse's dry chuckle caused the good doctor to wince in understanding. “I'm a fool. Wouldn't be the first time.” The last was just a whisper but Angela heard it. She reached across the table, placing a tender touch to the marksman’s forearm. The sorrowful smile that the action earned tugged at her heartstrings.

“Jesse when you brought him into my med bay, dripping wet, bleeding and creating a bloody mess you were the perfect picture of a kid with a new puppy. I could not turn down a creature in need and I should be furious you took advantage of that but I am not.” Angela continued, her thumb rubbing soft against the hairy arm under her touch. “You have a good heart Jesse, but he does not belong in a tank.”

“I know. I'm taking him down to the beach. I have half a mind to drop him in the nearest tide pool and walk away. It’d be easier.” Jesse's laughter was bitter, biting, dark humor that Angela knew wasn't real.

“Easier maybe but you know he still needs you. His fins may not need adjustments, but he is still getting used to them,” Angela finished the drink, withdrawing her hand and rising to refill her mug.

“For now. I've put it off long enough. I'm gonna go change and take our guest to the beach. You're welcome to come.” 

Jesse's faux cheer hurt. Angela's chest tightened but she forced a smile.

“Promise me you won't wear the rhinestone tank top. It might frighten Mr. Shimada.” Angela teased, her tone light despite the serious nature of their conversation.

“No promises!” Jesse waved over his head, leaving the kitchen and his boots heavy steps echoing against the white walls.

“Oh Jesse. You have to let him go. I pray you can.” 

She wasn't a religious woman. Science was her forte, her comfort blanket.Angela prayed that there was some way to mend a bleeding heart.

\-----

Hanzo clenched his fists, trying his best to contain his excitement and anticipation as the gunslinger rounded the corner of the cliffs. 

The ocean stretched before them. Gulls cried over the menagerie of tide pools that spread across the ground. The inlet in which the gunslinger had first spotted the mer was their destination. The area was shallow and sheltered. High tide brought the waters up enough that he could stretch his tail, learn how to swim against the current once again. 

Jesse had offered to continue their sessions three times a day. Dismissively Hanzo had accepted, all but pulling himself out of the tank when the gunslinger had confirmed the journey to the ocean that morning.

“Here we are!” 

The cheer in his voice was as  shallow as the water near the beach. Jesse knelt down, the mer plopping onto the sandy shore, and the gunslinger tipped his hat back to scratch at his forehead. An unlit cigar hung limp between his teeth, chewing on the end out of nervous habit. Being on the beach with the mer touching the ocean water as it lapped the edges of those finely crafted fins, made the whole ordeal too real. Jesse swallowed, hands grabbing his knees, anything to steady his nerves.

The doctor had tagged along, a basket tucked under one arm and her hair pulled back into a messy bun. Angela was quiet as she observed the two. She felt like the odd man out now and chose to hang back.

“It'll be high tide here soon. Want to try stretching your tail before breakfast?” Jesse offered, already pulling off his boots and setting them and the unlit cigar to the side. 

Hanzo's response was dragging himself deeper into the waves, tail slapping against the surface and shivering at the salt water washing over his scales. 

“I'll take that as a yes.”

Picking up the mer, Jesse walked them into deeper waters. The ocean was warm this time of year. Pleasant and welcoming. Once at a height that his waist was concealed beneath waves, he shifted his hold on the mer. The familiar procedure of massaging and warming Hanzo's tail brought relief to Jesse's nerves. Muscle memory served its purpose and too soon the mer was pushing away, drifting with the current. In a flash he disappeared beneath the waves, and Jesse panicked, searching for the crimson and royal scales. Other than ripples there wasn't an indication Hanzo had even been there.

Across the horizon was the vast expanse of blues and indigos and ceruleans. All shades of the ocean. The sight was gorgeous. The sea held her secrets and Hanzo was part of that perfection. He expected the mer to leave just... not so abruptly. It was like a smack to his conscious. He wasn't prepared. 

“Behind you.” 

The breath brushed the nape of his neck, claws pinpricks against tanned shoulders. Jesse's heart raced for all the wrong reasons. Jesse stood ramrod straight before his entire body was dunked under the ocean. Sputtering, grabbing for his soaked hat, he glared at the smirking mer. From the beach Angela's laughter was contagious.

Jesse settled the sopping hat back onto his head and grinned. “Ya got me good. I'll give ya that.” 

Caution creased Hanzo's forehead, erasing the grin in the same instant Jesse launched himself forward, taking the mer back into the waves. Wrestling a mer in the water was akin to fighting a bear in the woods - this was Hanzo's home turf and his advantage was obvious. All it took was the twist of his tail and Hanzo had the gunslinger wrapped up tight. 

“Well this is familiar.” 

Even bound with his legs and mechanical hand pinned together, his free arm slapped at the tail in protest.

“I have missed this.” 

Hanzo hummed, hands snatching Jesse's hat from the marksman’s head and wearing the accessory - a smug expression plastered across his face. The sun danced across the scales of his tail. The light created a dazzling display of the markings under his eyes. The intricate scale pattern sprawled across the mer's shoulder and chest was a kaleidoscope of refracted light on the water's surface.

Hanzo stared at the gunslinger, head titled slightly to the side. Jesse stared back, entranced by the image presented. 

Angela broke the revere and two heads snapped at her whistle. She called them in. Jesse answered the request, clambering up the shoreline and taking a seat on the blanket. Graciously he accepted the sandwich, popping open the bottle of water. 

Hanzo stayed in the ocean, tail weaving through the ripples and he declined a meal. He could hunt for himself. In the ocean he was a natural. To prove the point he disappeared beneath the waves, reappearing with a wiggling fish between his claws.

They continued on the beach well into late afternoon. Angela called it quits earlier. She left the mer and his handler to their own whims. Jesse insisted they go through their routine, working out the kinks of Hanzo's tail and holding the mer as he stretched.

“You're going to want to stay out here tonight?” Jesse released him, stepping back, hands taking on hips.

“Yes.” Hanzo was floating on his back, staring at the dying sun.

“Well, then I'll leave ya to it. I'm turning into a prune. I'll see you in the morning darlin’.” He tipped his hat. 

Hanzo returned the gesture the barest of smiles. “I look forward to it.” 

The mer dove into the water then, disappearing save for the tiniest cresting of spines to indicate Hanzo's position. A brightly colored predator. 

Jesse exhaled, not realizing he had been holding it. Anxiety over the eventuality of the mer's departure caused his nerves to jitter. As he climbed up the cliffside to the border of the watchpoint, the reality of their situation dealt a brutal blow.

The empty tank. The churning hodge podged filtration system. Both needed to be dismantled before the rest of the team returned from their lengthy mission in England. It would make quite the story. The cowboy and his mermaid. Like a terrible fairy tale.

Every morning it was the same. Jesse would take some breakfast down to the beach. Hanzo would be waiting in the tide pool. Scales always glistening. The picture ripped right from a painting. Each time Jesse itched for the feel of those scales and warm flesh but those moments became fleeting. The mer was strong enough to no longer require the massages or assistance. He would hunt for lunch and Jesse finally got him to try cooked fish. The expression of disgust on Hanzo's face was worth the splash of water across the fire. They wrestled in the waves. Hanzo would sometimes jump through the white crests, flipping and pushing the limits of the prosthetics. His spines had finally regrown. His wounds had healed.

“Well you clean up nice. Guessin’ you're going to be leaving now huh?” Jesse tried to sound unphased but he knew his voice shook.

“Yes. I should return to my territory.” Hanzo's words were matter of fact. He was perched on a few slick rocks, ends of his tail dipped into the tide pool.

“Reckon you should.” 

Awkward silence punctuated by the lazy back and forth of the water against the sands. Boats on the far off horizon echoed their horns off the cliffs.

“Jesse.”

“Hmm?” The gunslinger turned, arms crossed, hip leaning against the rocks, focused on the mer's profile.

“Thank you. For everything.” Hanzo glanced sideways at the human,expressionless.

“Wasn't nothin’. Just helping out someone in need. I'd hope someone would do the same for me.” He wasn't trying to be modest or bashful just honest.

“No. I have never known… kindness from humans as you've shown me. It is a lesson I will carry with me. I am thankful for having met you.” 

Hanzo was staring him down now. The mer's face was disquietingly serious. His claws scraped against the rock beneath him. The only indicator of potential nerves beneath the picturesque surface of the mer's facade.

“Like I said, it ain't nothin’.” He didn't blush but Jesse felt his chest tighten none the less. The sun felt hotter. The air more constrictive.

“I will be leaving tonight.”

“I kind of figured you would.” Jesse fought to keep his emotions pressed down, metallic fingers fidgeting with the waistband of his obnoxious bright blue swim trunks.

“Jesse. I will not be returning.” There it was. The death knell. The final blow.

“Angela isn't going to like that news.” He tried to lighten the mood. He tried  to ignore the pain. He tried to bury and forget it ever existed.

“No. She won't. But she will live, as you say,” Hanzo's smirk at the word choice brought a chuckle - forced and abrupt - from the gunslinger's throat.

“This is good bye then,” he choked out the words. This was pathetic. Jesse chided himself, wrangling down the emotions. He envied the mer's ability to stay stoic through this. It was just another day to him. Part of Jesse was irrationally furious.

“Yes. Come here.” 

Hanzo's eyes - the color of coffee on a winter day - drilled the gunslinger in place and with jerky movements Jesse responded. 

“Take this.” 

Hanzo's hand came up, pressing a claw against the gunslinger's chest were a warm heat began to turn Jesse's already tan skin slightly red. He balked but the mer's other hand snapped up, right around Jesse's upper arm and anchoring him in place. The heat spread and Jesse felt something swirl inside his chest. Light headed, heedy, when Hanzo removed his hand a tiny mural of yellow and red scales settled against Jesse's breast. In the shape of a serpent much like the pattern that encompasses Hanzo's entire side, a replica now rested on Jesse's chest. 

“It will heal. It may burn for a few days as your body attempts to reject the intrusion. It will connect you to me and I to you. You will know if I am well. It is what I can offer. I apologize I can not do more-”

Jesse cut off the mer, hairy arms wrapping around Hanzo in a tight, almost crushing embrace. Partially an excuse to finally see how soft that hair was and part from pure impulse, the gunslinger softened his grip when Hanzo tentatively returned the gesture. The hair was silk - as smooth as it appeared flowing in a halo around the mer's head.

“Thank ya. Hold on. I'll be right back,” Jesse bolted up the cliffside leaving a befuddled him sitting on the rocks. 

Hanzo watched the ships on the ocean. The familiar markings of a poaching vessel that had assaulted him were not there. Perhaps they had left his territory or moved to other waters. Whatever the case Hanzo growled at the idea of finding that ship again to ensure those men did not continue their intrusive behavior. Jesse coming back down the path, stumbling, holding something in his hands drew Hanzo's attention. 

“Turn around.” The gunslinger instructed - panting heavily - and with a raised brow he acquiesced to the request. 

Hanzo stiffened when metal and flesh began wrapping about his hair. When he tried to turn Jesse clicked his tongue in a warning. Done, Hanzo could feel the brush of cloth against his back and one hand grabbed the perpetrator. It was a strip of golden silk with an intricate pattern of swirls and dots on black. 

“It ain't much but it's something. The salt water might fade the color but it's always bothered me your hair was all over the place. I shouldn't be talking though huh?” As if to punctuate the point Jesse's hair was sticking out at all off angles under his hat. 

“It will be my treasure.”

“As will this,” Jesse touched the still warm scale pattern on his chest with two fingers. He knew the mer probably did not do it on purpose but the marking was above Jesse's frantic heart.

Hanzo slipped into the water then, backpedaling and giving the gunslinger a final nod before disappearing. A second later Hanzo broke the surface, the new cloth a banner behind his arched form as the mer danced in the waves, growing smaller and smaller until he disappeared amidst the white foam.

Jesse watched the ocean for an hour after. He knew he wouldn't see the mer again but the part of his bleeding heart still wanted the improbable.

The next day the tank was cleaned up. The filtration system was broken down. All evidence of the mer having been there removed as the rest of the team returned. The watchpoint went back to normal. Smiles and comforting gestures but Jesse's dour mood did not go wholly unnoticed. When it was brought up he would smile and wave away the worries.

No one commented on it, but the team saw when Jesse began taking his smoke breaks down by the tide pools - sometimes for hours - staring out across the ocean until darkness fell. Every night for months. He was never without a shirt. Only Angela knew why but her lips were sealed.

Then one night he stopped going to the tide pool. Jesse understood his pining was foolish and misplaced. He was being a sixteen year old girl about the whole ordeal. The mer was gone. He had said as much. The gunslinger did not want to acknowledge but the facts were the facts. The team needed their marksman and not some shell of a man. He melded back into the group - honest laughter and open smiles. When asked about the strange scales on his chest - Lucio had caught sight of them one day - Jesse waved it off as a new tattoo. The result of too many drinks while the team was away. Angela backed up his story with a knowing smile and gentle touch.

Hanzo drifted to the back of his mind. A year to the day Jesse ventured down to the tide pool and left a new length of cloth - bright yellow with the pattern of running mustangs decorating it. The next morning it was gone - replaced with a worn and frayed cloth that the gunslinger hadn't seen in a year.

**Author's Note:**

> Can always find me on Tumblr or Twitter at: captainxcorgi!  
> Kudos are appreciated! Comments are adored and always replied to!


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